Reminders
by P.P.S
Summary: Sometimes you need to be reminded to not take things for granted. Sometimes you need a reminder to value the things you have. Sometimes you have to be reminded to appreciate what you once did. **A Christmas fic based on a song**


Reminders written by Polecat  
(song lyrics in the double stars **)  
  
**It was almost Christmas time,   
there I stood in another line.   
Trying to buy that last gift or two,   
not really in the Christmas mood.   
Standing right in front of me,   
was a little boy waiting anxiously.   
Pacing round like little boys do,   
and in his hand he held a pair of shoes.   
And his clothes were worn and old,   
he was dirty from head to toe.   
But when it came his time to pay,   
I couldn't believe what I heard him say.**  
  
The last place I wanted to be was in this line on this night. It's not like I had any place better to be, being a bachelor I spend most holidays alone. But I did want to buy this gift for the boy who sold newspapers on my street. The line seemed to stretch on forever, I must have been standing here at lease twenty minutes. Snow floated down from the sky, dusting everything and everyone who was outside in white. I was not looking forward to going home in that weather. A woman stood behind me with her snotting child throwing a temper tantrum over some toy her mother refused to buy her. I glanced over my shoulder and gave them both icy looks, the woman gave me one back and the child continued to wail.  
  
Finally I was the next to be served. All I want to do is pay for this cap and be one my way. Right in front of me is another child, he looks no older than nine. I wonder where his parents are as he shifts from one foot to another in a jittery motion. His blonde hair is shaggy and falling over his eyes, dirt smudges his hands and I can see it on the sides of his face. His knickers are torn at the knee, his shirt too large and his jacket too small. He looks like any other poor orphan you see on the street, except for the item he was trying to purchase. A pair of gold colored slippers. Obviously he must have a mother or sister at home and he finally saved up enough money to buy them a gift. He's taking long enough as he looks at the shoes and hands them over to the cashier. Why is this child taking so long? Just give up your pennies and go home or move so I can.  
  
"That'll be five dollars."  
  
The boys face fell as he was told the price for the shoes, he brushed at his bangs, biting his quivering lower lip. When he spoke, I knew why he was near tears.  
  
  
**Sir, I wanna buy these shoes,   
for my mama please.   
Its Christmas Eve,   
and these shoes are just her size.   
Could you hurry sir,   
daddy says there not much time.   
You see she's been sick for quite a while,   
and I know these shoes will make her smile.   
And I want her to look beautiful,   
if mama meets Jesus tonight.**  
  
He told the cashier that he needed to buy the shoes for his mother. That it was Christmas Eve and probably her last. I scoffed to myself as I had heard and used a hundred cons like that myself. He continued to say that his father was sure that tonight was going to be his mother's last, how sick she was and how long she'd been sick. He was convinced that the shoes would bring a smile to his mother's face.  
  
"I want to look beautiful, if mama meets Jesus tonight."  
  
  
**They counted pennies for what seemed like years,   
the cashier said son there's not enough here.   
He searched his pockets frantically,   
then he turned and he looked at me.   
He said mama met Christmas good in our hearts though,   
Most years she just did without.   
Tell me sir what am I gonna do,   
Somehow I've gotta buy her these Christmas shoes.   
So I laid the money down,   
I just had to help him out.   
And I'll never forget the look on his face,   
when he said mama's gonna look so great.**  
  
The cashier counted out the boys pennies, the boy counting right along with him. Once finally done the cashier said, "Son there's not enough here."  
  
He dug through the pockets of his knickers and jacket, once and then twice. He didn't find another spare penny. He turned to me, his big blue-green eyes bright and shimmering from tears he desperately tried to hold back. He went on to tell me how they never had much but his mother made sure that each Christmas was special, even if it meant she'd have nothing. He asked me what he was going to do, like I was supposed to have an answer for him.  
  
"Somehow I've gotta buy her these Christmas shoes."  
  
I laid the rest of what he needed down on the counter, it wasn't really like me, but I could feel how badly he needed those shoes. Shock over took his features, his round eyes growing bigger as he looked at the money. Then he looked to me again, his face bright with wide smile.  
  
"My mama's gonna look so great."  
  
  
**Sir, I wanna buy these shoes,   
for my mama please.   
Its Christmas Eve,   
and these shoes are just her size.   
Could you hurry sir,   
daddy says there not much time.   
You see she's been sick for quite a while,   
and I know these shoes will make her smile.   
And I want her to look beautiful,   
if mama meets Jesus tonight.   
  
I knew I caught a glimpse of heavens love,   
as he thanked me and ran out.   
I knew that God had sent that little boy,   
to remind me what Christmas is all about.**  
  
I've never been one for sappy stories, I knew them all and heard them all. But something about that boy made my throat tightened as he relayed the story of his dying mother. Through all my years of growing up on the streets, through hearing every possible story of abuse and labor, never had I heard one told with such sincerity.  
  
His face beamed as the cashier bagged the shoes and handed them to him. Looking past his grimy face and tattered clothes, the boy really reminded of an angel. Of innocent youth, the kind alot of other boys -including me- lost to the streets. This boy reminded me of me and the boys I grew up with, the ones who were raised by the streets.  
  
"Thank you, mistah!" And he dashed out the door. I've never been one for holidays, I've never had a family, and once I grew up my friends and I grew apart. Somebody up there must have thought I needed to be reminded of what this time of year was all about. As I paid for the cap I planned to give the newsboy, I thought back to my newsie days. To my friends, the boys I considered brothers. Runaway's and orphans who called the cruel streets of New York Mom and Dad. The boy reminded me of how we all once were, before the harsh truth of being an orphan slapped you. 'An orphan', I thought to myself. Was that what the boy would become? His innocent glow fading away and being locked behind hardened eyes. His brilliant smile twisting into cunning smirks and rotten scowls? Quickly I left the store to find him and be sure that the streets weren't going to be his next residence.  
  
  
**Sir, I wanna buy these shoes,   
for my mama please.   
Its Christmas Eve,   
and these shoes are just her size.   
Could you hurry sir,   
daddy says there not much time.   
You see she's been sick for quite a while,   
and I know these shoes will make her smile.   
And I want her to look beautiful,   
if mama meets Jesus tonight. **  
  
I found him outside the store, hopping from one foot to another excitedly. He waved the new shoes in front of the face of a man I assumed to be his father.   
  
"I didn't have enough, but dis guy gave me da money. Him! Dat guy!," he glanced around and pointed me out.  
  
I stepped closer to him and his father, I didn't expect a thank you, I just wanted to give my condolences. I stopped in front of the man, his small son beaming up at him. The boy had his father's eyes. I knew those eyes, so bright and never sure whether they were blue or green or a mix of both. The man wasn't smiling, but I knew his son shared the same smile. I knew this man, only I knew the boy he was. I knew his face when it was younger, not so tired and worn. I knew those eyes back when they were full of spitfire and not filled with sorrow. I knew this brother of mine, we had the same up bringing, shared the same parents. I called mine Manhattan, he called his Brooklyn.  
  
"Spot."  
  
He nodded to me, "Jack."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
He nodded again, "Me too."  
  
"Daddy," the boy tugged at Spot's sleeve. "I wanna get dese shoes to Mama, can we go now? Huh? Can we, please?"  
  
"I gotta go."  
  
"Sure, I understand."  
  
"Be seein' ya around, huh, Kelly?"  
  
"Yeah, sure Spot."  
  
He turned towards Brooklyn and I continued on through Manhattan. The likely hood of us ever seeing each other again was slim. We've all grown, moved past being newsies and on into adulthood. But until now, I never really appreciated the time I had with them.  
  
  
**I want her to look beautiful,   
If mama meets Jesus Tonight**  
  
I guess somebody up there thought I needed to be reminded what Christmas was all about. When I see the newsie who sells on my street tomorrow, not only will I give him this cap I thought at the last minute to buy him. But I'll find out what his name is, and see if he wants to share Christmas dinner with another one of Manhattan's children.  
  
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The song is by Newsong (I think), Spot and Jack belong to Disney and I made up the little boy. I think I sorta ended it kinda lame, but I wanted it to be on a happy and sad note. The song's really sad and my mother cries every time she hears it. I tried to make the fic a tear jerker too, I don't think it really is, just kinda sad. 


End file.
